


Until We Get to Peru

by livethekind



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livethekind/pseuds/livethekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not all of us can be gods, Jade," Rose's voice is soft. "I doubt that there's much left for us anywhere on this planet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Get to Peru

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Homestuck Shipping Olympics, Bonus Round 1. The prompt was "Beta OT4, Post-Apocalyptic + Road Trip."

They _think_ all of the radiation from the nuclear explosions has mostly subsided -- "Besides, Jade is some sort of radiation-eating dog, right?" John reminds them, even though it's not technically true -- so of course the thing to do as some of the few survivors of the apocalypse is to hijack a car and drive from upstate New York to Seattle.

Dave's seen it done on COPS, and Jade is pretty handy with a wrench, so it's not hard for them to kick the car into action and off they go, heading as due West as they think they can get. Dave's driving - mostly because he's seen Bro do it occasionally, and no one trusts Rose to not pull off to the side of the road and examine the charred remains of some unfortunate soul. Jade's in the passenger seat, and John and Rose take up residence the back.

"Do you think anyone else survived?" Jade looks out the window at the wreckage. They're passing through some indistinguishable city in Pennsylvania, crumpled remains of bodies and burnt out buildings flying by at sixty miles per hour. Dave drives like he's being chased by the cops, but so far the only authority figure they've seen is an abandoned EMS, blood splattered all over the windshield and front of the vehicle. No police cars have survived, or if they have, none of them were left on the highway.  
"Not all of us can be gods, Jade," Rose's voice is soft. "I doubt that there's much left for us anywhere on this planet."

Dave kicks the podunk car into driving a little faster, all three of them steadfastly attempting to ignore the sniffles and tears that come from the passenger seat.

At the Ohio border they decide to start playing a game to lift their spirits: every time they pass an abandoned SUV, they kiss. Every town, they stop. And after finding more gas and some food that looks edible ( _pretty swag that the time god can make a tomato go back in time until its deradiated, huh?_ ), they all try to cheer each other up by taking turns at playing other types of games. On Dave's turns, it's all spin the bottle, empty coke cans spinning on deserted sidewalks and John murmuring appreciatively when Rose and Jade "use their tongues, dude, just like liv tyler in that movie!" For John, it was all _about_ the movies -- and surprisingly, a lot of towns had movie theaters that survived. So they watch whatever's available, in the vaults or on the reels, throwing stale popcorn at the screen during the bad parts and laughing at the sappy ones. Jade prefers the parks, running to the swings and demanding to be pushed, to slide, to run on spinning wheels and climb monkey bars. Sometimes, she even finds old amusement parks for them. Getting the engines on the machines to work with some old-fashioned elbow grease is no problem, and they watch as Dave screams like a little girl at the drops. But for Rose, it's stories -- the stories she tells, of course, but the ones the others can tell too. Stories of SBURB, stories of their childhoods, things they had never thought to tell one another before. Rose explained that she held elegant tea parties with her horrorterror princesses; Dave admitted that kids made fun of him for his eyes; John, shifty eyed, explained that he had once pretended to be a detective; Jade confessed that sometimes it was so lonely on her island that she would hide in the jungle for days, until Bec teleported her home.

When they weren't driving, they raided houses -- going into the personal lives of recently-deceased strangers was fascinating, in a way. Some houses were perfectly preserved, mysteriously unhurt by the fire and debris, from the green flames and radiation. Others weren't so lucky. They'd find the largest bed they could and all curl up in it, pulling the covers to their chins and moving together. Jade snored -- _Perhaps when I become a doctor, I'll see to fixing a cure for you_ , Rose tells her every morning -- but none of them seemed to mind, because it was always back into the car, back on the road.

They make it to Seattle in two weeks, but they aren't happy there. They find a note from Dad -- SON, IF YOU ARE READING THIS, THEN I HAVE GONE WITH A VERY CLASSY LADY AND HER ASSOCIATES TO A BUNKER IN PERU. \-- and decide that they don't want to stay in a city with no people. It's lonely, the houses half destroyed and dead bodies splayed everywhere. There's not even a proper park or movie theater to satisfy their curiosities.

"Well, if we're driving again, I want a fucking tank." Dave points over his shoulder at the neighbors' SUV, unused since the disaster but in relatively good condition. They all agree enthusiastically -- Jade yells "Hooray!" and runs for the backseat this time, John barreling in after her. Rose walks with a slightly more dignified pace, sitting down on the leather front seat with only the barest rustle of fabric. Dave takes his sweet time getting to the driver's seat, fiddling with the mirrors and controls, until the twins in the back tell him to hurry up.

"You know," Rose mentions, looking at everyone with only the slightest hint of a smile. "Before we go, how about a kiss for good luck? After all, we don't know what crossing the border will be like. It might be months until we get to Peru."

The car erupts with cheers as each friend kisses the other, the engine sputters to life, and the kids barrel out of the neighborhood. Every single one of them wonders - some aloud, others mentally - how long it would be until they could get "good Mexican food."


End file.
